Phantom Game (GhostWalkers 18)

Jonas slipped around to the other side of the helicopter where Camellia couldn’t see him, but she could still feel him through the underground connection. Then she couldn’t. He had climbed into the helicopter. Her heart seemed to beat right into her throat.

What are you going to do? She did her best to keep the trepidation from her voice and pour confidence into his mind the way he always did for her.

Treat the weapons to a little bath with special acid a friend of mine cooked up. Then I’ll go back outside and treat the main rotor blade and swash plate to the same.

The rotor blade? He was going outside the helicopter where any of the enhanced commanders might look up and see him. Maybe she really would have a heart attack.

Jonas’s amusement echoed both Kyle’s and Jeff’s.

Laugh it up, boys, she said, but her attention was pulled back toward the table, where one of the enhanced commanders had shifted restlessly, glancing toward the grove of trees and then up into the heavier forest.

One of them is definitely feeling our presence. He doesn’t know where the threat is coming from, but he knows one is close. Kyle?

Shaker referred to him as Gorman. No one move until he stops being paranoid.

Camellia dug her feet into the ground, getting an even firmer connection with the mycelium beneath the soil. It was spread wide, going from tree to tree, shrub to shrub, a conduit for communication that went up the mountain all the way along the trail to tell her exactly where Shaker’s forward scouts were.

Suddenly, Gorman lifted his face toward the sky and issued a stuttering hoot that was answered from the interior of the forest. Gray let out a very distinctive primary call, one that declared in no uncertain terms he was proclaiming the territory as his, and he would defend his mate and nest from all other raptors.

Kyle, break off. Break off now, Camellia ordered. Gray’s going to attack.

Gray was already in the air, flying straight at the large owl coming off the branch of a tree in the forest. The two combatants met in midair, Gray slashing viciously at the raptor’s breast and eyes with his curved razor-sharp talons and his hooked beak. He was an experienced fighter and went in low and fast, like a heat-seeking missile. A formidable bird of prey, Gray didn’t break off for more than a moment to turn and come back at his foe. The owl had dared to come into his territory, possibly to lay claim to his lady or kill any owlets Gray might have.

Gorman screamed and collapsed, one hand covering his eyes and the other his chest. Blood trickled from between his fingers. He hadn’t retreated fast enough.

“Shit, Gorman, do you want me to shoot that thing?” another one of the enhanced commanders asked while the others all stared in shock.

Camellia wasn’t certain she could call Gray back. He was in full defense of his territory and family mode. His instincts as a predator had taken him completely over.

“No, he’s just defending his nest, Lewis. It’s what they do. Look at him. He’s the coolest. If I’d seen him, I would have chosen him, but he was so still until he actually moved, I didn’t know he was anywhere close.” There was real admiration in Gorman’s voice.

Camellia could tell it didn’t occur to him that anyone had used the owl to study them. He kept his hand over his eyes, peeking out through his fingers. She knew, being inside the owl’s body, using its eyes when Gray struck, Gorman had been injured as well. He was lucky the owl hadn’t torn out his eyes. Had he been any slower, he certainly could have lost them.

How can Gray claim this territory as his? He just got here. And he’s serious, Jeff said.

Blue’s with him, Camellia pointed out. It’s instinct to protect her.

“Are you going to be able to see?” Shaker asked. “I need you to be able to carry out your orders.” He might’ve sounded annoyed, but he was hovering over Gorman, snapping his fingers and pointing toward a duffel bag.

The man they’d identified as Lowell hurried over to it and returned with a first aid kit. It was Shaker who very gently attended Gorman’s wounds.

“Yeah, Shaker,” Gorman said. “I can carry out orders.” He took the cold pack from his commander and pressed it to his eyes. “That owl is damn beautiful.”

All of them turned to watch the raptors conducting their battle low to the ground, only a few yards from them. At times they seemed to get lost in the fog, but then they would break apart, go to ground hissing their challenge and once more lock beaks or talons, usually Gray as the aggressor.

“Let’s get back to it, gentlemen,” Shaker said, turning to the table with obvious regret.